Biscuits and Gravy
by CookiesFly
Summary: One week. One Hundred and Sixty Eight Hours. That's how long it had been since the funeral; since she had moved back in since they had decided that they should "break up". Callie wanted to thank the Fosters for all that they had done in the only way she knew how - making them her comfort food.


Thanks to my lovely friend and beta (identityneverreallymattered on tumblr) for helping make this work.

Song below is by the Morning Parade, entitled _Speechless_

* * *

_So we fall and we break  
__And we make the same mistakes  
__Like we always, always do  
__And we crawl, intertwined  
__Forced apart from the inside  
__Like we always, always knew_

One week. One Hundred and Sixty Eight Hours. That's how long it had been since the funeral; since she had moved back in; since they had decided that they should "break up" because there was no way for them to be together at the moment - she had too many things to process and even though she needed him, she needed all of the Fosters just as much. If she was really being honest with herself though, she knew it was because of Rita's words; she knew she had to find a way to love herself before fully being able to experience the love he had to offer. But that didn't make it any less difficult to see him and not be able to touch his hand or feel his body covering hers while their lips...

She was brought out of her reverie by the sound of the oven, telling her that it was done pre-heating. Crap. She was so lost in her thoughts that she forgot to actually **make **the biscuits. With a sigh, she walked over to the fridge, grabbing the buttermilk and butter and places them on the counter and then goes to the cupboard gathering the rest of the ingredients. The last time she made them all breakfast was when Stef was in the hospital; she remembered waking up at 6 in the morning because she couldn't get the memory of her mom out of her head and just how lost she felt at her passing and how much she wanted to do something for the people who had started to mean so much to her.

She remembered the first time her mom taught her how to make biscuits and gravy. The secret ingredient, her mom told her, was love. When she asked her mom what that meant, she would simply smile and would sprinkle a bit of "love" into the batter and then blow a kiss to the biscuits as they were in the oven. Stef's words rang in her head - though her mom wasn't there, the memories they shared would always remain in her heart.

Thoughts of her mom made her aware of the necklace, hanging casually around her neck. Just as she was getting used to the idea of no longer having it, he brought it to her; she wasn't surprised and if anything she half-expected him to find it. Not only did he help her find Jude, but he helped her find her place with The Fosters and made her feel like she actually belonged. And that's why she wanted to make them breakfast - they had comforted her for so long that she wanted to return the favor. She also wanted to thank them because they had taken her back in, no questions asked and acted as if nothing had happened.

Sure, she had stricter curfews and rules to follow, but she didn't mind it; it reminded her of Girls United. She thought back to the other girls and wondered what they were doing now, probably making breakfast and getting ready to go on another trip. She had surprisingly missed them and wondered if she would have time to visit.

With all the ingredients in front of her, she got to work. Adding and mixing the flour, baking powder, salt, butter, and baking soda in a large bowl. As she finished mixing and began kneading, she heard footsteps and immediately knew who it was. Of course it was him, who else would be awake this early. His hair was still disheveled from the night before and he was still in his PJ's. She had to smile at his appearance. "Good morning, sleepy head."

"Hey, you." He greeted her as he sat down near the counter, directly across from her. "What're you making?" His voice acted like a magnet, leading her to stare up at his face. As soon as her brown meet his green, her breath caught. Has he always had such beautiful eyes? She couldn't remember; the only thing she could see and feel was his glare. In his eyes, she saw the possible normality of the situation - two people living together and one making breakfast for the other. Him surprising her with a delicate morning kiss...she heard him swallow hard as if the same thought went through his head.

They needed to snap out of this, it wasn't healthy and if they wanted to live under the same roof, they both knew they needed to get a hold of their feelings. As hard as it was, she tore her eyes away from his, looking down at the concoction. "Biscuits and Gravy", she responds softly. "I couldn't sleep and wanted to make something for everyone. It's been a rough couple of days and it is about the only comforting thing I can make, so…"

A sad smile crossed his face and she couldn't figure out why. "Well, can I help? I'm up anyway."

"Sure, you can finish mixing the batter; I need to get started on the gravy." She said as she pointed to the bowl, making her way over to the stove to start cooking up the sausages.

They worked in silence, and while it didn't feel awkward, heaviness filled the air. As the sausages sizzled in the pan, she turned around to try some casual conversation, they'd have to get used to that anyway. The sight in front of her made her giggle, which caused him to turn around and look at her with the look of a two year old who had just been caught stealing cookies. The counter was covered in flour and there were splotches of white powder all over his PJs.

"That's not how you do it, haven't you ever made anything before?" She teased.

He feigned being hurt, crossing his arms across his chest, "Of course I've cooked before; I told you I make killer pancakes."

"Killer as in eating them kills everyone? You know that's not really a good thing…"she laughed again and nudged him out of the way, accidentally brushing her arm against his. The brief contact sent shivers down her spine as she remembered how it felt to be in his warm embrace.

As she made her way to the bowl she realized he hadn't made a _huge_ mess, but also didn't really mix the ingredients well, so she got to work. "I'll just finish this up, why don't you go check up on the sausages?" She said from behind her back, getting the dough to the right consistency.

The sizzling behind her told her that he went to move the sausages around. A few seconds passed and she felt him next to her, side by side, shoulder to shoulder. "Well, if I'm so bad, why don't you teach me?" His said, looking sideways at her, voice still husky from the morning.

"It's really not that difficult," she starts as she picks up a piece of dough, "All you do is take a piece and just, you know, make a small square." He gave her a blank stare that caused her to smile. "What, Mr. Brainiac can't figure out how to fold dough? Try it again."

"I can, I just need to actually _feel_ how it's done. That thing that you just did" he made a weird gesture with his hands, "I have no idea how you did that."

She raised her eyebrow, giving a silent "Oh please," causing him to sigh in defeat and put his hands back into the bowl. He picked up the dough and started mimicking her actions; well he tried anyway. How he could compose such beautiful music with his hands and yet not be able to make a simple biscuit amazed her. He looked like a lost puppy that just needed a bath.

"Alright, come here," she said, and without really thinking about what she was doing, she shifted, grabbing his hands and moving to stand in front of him so that his arms encircled her waist. As if by reflex, she felt his chest press into her back.

Callie took a breath. They shouldn't be doing this; they both agreed that they would stop.

She couldn't help but relax deeper into him.

They'd been good all week, having casual conversations and even walking to school together without much difficulty. Why was this so different?

She took another breath and felt his chest rise and fall, in tune with hers, his head dropping onto her neck.

Then it hit her. When they interacted previously they were in the company of others, leaving them no choice _but_ to control themselves. Now, in alone in the kitchen, left to their own devices, things were different.

Her hand moved of its own accord, fingers separating and curling on top of his, entwining their hands; fingers grabbing onto each other for dear life.

They both sucked in a deep breath, as if about to plunge into the ocean. Her whole body felt alive and she felt each point of contact that they shared, from their hands all the way down to the sides of her feet.

"Callie…" He managed to get out. "Maybe this wasn't...we really shouldn't," his voice was filled with tension and longing. She knew he was right, they needed to stop before they went back on everything that they had promised; she mustered all the self-control she had ever had and dropped her hand from his.

He took a breath, cleared his throat and spoke first, "So," his voice was deeper show how. It was as if he was frozen solid by what had just happened, having difficulty doing nearly everything, even speaking. He tried to sound as casual as possible to clear the heaviness of the moment, but his tone betrayed his  
attempt, only making her weaker in her knees.

"What's wrong with how I was doing it?"

_Twenty seconds on the backlog, overtime  
__Just twenty seconds 'til you're no longer mine_


End file.
